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Monday, April 17, 2006
Sigh...sometimes i wish i had a dog...a pet, a companion...a friend i could go for runs with...i have 2 turtles at home, and i love them to bits...but i can't bring them on runs...sigh...i don't like the feeling of having nothing to do at home...i wish i had more friends to hang out with..or at least, i wish i had something to do, which i like...if only my family had allowed me to buy a bicycle...i could have gone cycling everyday.. i love cycling...i like the feeling i get when the wind rushes past me...it's like a cleansing of my heart, my soul...the breeze brushes against my face, a comforting touch...a gentle touch to let me know that it's there for me...and then it's gone...taking all my sorrows, all my heartaches with it... Let me paint a dream for you...a dream i have in my mind... It is a scenic hillside...the road winds around the hill. Standing where i am, the road crosses from my right to my left in a graceful curve...in the depths of the woods, a piano is playing..i don't know who's dancing her fingers on the keys, but the beautiful melodies that erupt from the woods tug on my heart strings... A gust of wind causes my eyelids to drop...for a moment, all is dark...i see nothing..all i hear is the piano in the distance..the notes wrapping around me like a cloak... The gust fades to a gentle breeze, and i open my eyes once again...a new noise breaks into the music of the piano...i hear the faint rhythmic tapping of a soft foot on the tarred road...like a distant drumming of a conga it plays..yet the beats fit in with the piano music...it complements it...another sound flows through...it reminds me of the shakers used in percussions..the percussionist moves the shakers through the air with a grace alike no other.. The taps get louder...and then, a lone cyclist breaks into the scene, crossing from my right to the left, pedalling with grace and gusto..each revolution of the wheels and the axle sounding like the graceful movement of the shakers through the air...the drummer runs beside the cyclist..a collie, wind rustling through its fur, drumming his soft paws on the tarred road...as swiftly as they appeared, so do they exit...once again i'm alone..i close my eyes...the scene fades...but the piano still plays.....
++ quoth dragonfly at 9:10 PM |